Smoking Kills
by taylorgoesrawr
Summary: John's saw his carefully built walls go crumbling down in front of his boots.


**Hello hello! So, I've actually been writing a lot today. I don't really know why but I suddenly got a lot of muse. Hopefully it stays, yeah? So this is a John/Allison fic though I don't quite think that I got them both in character. Oh well, what can you do? Please review, I love feedback!**

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John Bender didn't have a car.

Actually, he didn't have a license either, but that didn't stop him from walking through the school parking lot everyday on his way home to the chagrin of the richer kids who owned the more expensive and flashy vehicles in the lot.

They were the kids that considered him a disgrace to Shermer High School and that was precisely why he did it; he enjoyed the reactions he got as he walked through the supposedly forbidden territory. Sometimes, if he got bored enough, he'd write notes on windows with permanent markers or drag his house keys along the paint to make a nice looking scratch. He found a sick sort of enjoyment in damaging expensive things that didn't belong to him, you see – something that probably came from growing up with next to nothing.

Most people in John Bender's position would have definitely been put in their place by now but nobody messed with him; they knew he had the power to kill them because fighting out of rage is a powerful weapon, one that he undoubtedly possessed – he was an angry person, he couldn't help it. Besides, he lived a couple streets away and the fastest way to get there was to walk straight through the parking lot on the west side of the building, which just so happened to be this one. Therefore, the posh kids could eat his shorts for all he cared.

This particular day as he walked through the parking lot though, John Bender noticed something peculiar as he was about to insert his house key into the fender of a very handsome looking vehicle that belonged to Claire Standish's new beau. Dark eyebrows quirked upwards as the distinctive image of smoke filtered over a few cars over to his right – school wasn't over yet, so who would be out smoking, especially here of all places? There were so many other better spots to light a cigarette, John mused.

He placed his keys back in the pocket of his jeans, his intended vandalism momentarily forgotten as he maneuvered around a few cars to see who his companion was. The sight that he came across almost made him want to fall over from shock, but instead he simply bit down on his lower lip as he organized his thoughts. Allison Reynolds was sitting on the ground, back leaning against a car with a cigarette hanging from her lips. John felt dumbfounded – when did she start doing stuff like this?

He didn't know, but he was going to find out.

"You know that smoking kills, right?"

To be honest, John had expected her to jump at his voice or squeak – _something_. Instead, Allison simply stared at him a moment, taking a spiteful hit off of the cigarette held in her fingers. "Like you can talk." She told him calmly, exhaling smoke along with the words that rolled off her tongue.

The silence almost felt loud to John as he stood in front of her, not quite knowing what to say to that. Of course she was right – he'd been a fuck up since he was ten years old, when he got his first pack of cigarettes for Christmas. It had all gone down hill for him from that point on.

John sighed after a moment, running a hand through his windswept hair. He decided that switching tactics would be a smart idea. Crouching down in front of her, he took the cigarette from her mouth and took a long drag off it before putting it out at his feet. She was swearing angrily at him by now but he was so used to hearing such words that anything that she could say to him in a remotely hurtful fashion just simply didn't faze him. Instead, he held one finger up to his lips, just _one_ as if to tell her to shut up without having to utter a single syllable. Allison clamped her mouth shut almost immediately, curiosity taking hold of her mind as she saw the simple gesture.

"Why are you smoking, Ally-may?" John asked quietly, brown eyes sweeping over her face as he let his hands fall to his lap. He didn't miss the angry expression that dawned her pretty features momentarily before her face morphed into one of careful detachment.

"Why do you care, John?" She countered, eyes raised to meet his defiantly as if it could convince him that nothing was wrong in her world, when it in fact had the opposite effect on him – he'd always told her that she didn't have a career as an actress, he just wished that one day she'd give up and actually tell him what's wrong without all the prying on his part.

It was then that he smiled, exposing his straight teeth. "You know why I care, Allison. I know you don't smoke. So tell me, what's wrong?"

Allison avoided his eyes and his question, instead choosing to fiddle with her hands. "How would you know if I smoke or not?"

"Because I'd have to kill you and you know it." He told her casually, almost jokingly, before standing up from his crouching position to stare briefly at his reflection in the car he came to stand in front of. He vaguely began to wonder how much time they had the parking lot to themselves before school was let out and students began flooding the premises, but the thought was forgotten a moment later as anger bubbled to the surface.

"You would not, you hypocrite!" Allison exclaimed, eyes narrowing in frustration. She watched his back stiffen with a small sensation of satisfaction welling up in her chest, but it was short lived. "You smoke all the time and you're going to tell me th–"

"Do you _want_ to turn out like me?" He bellowed, interrupting her as he whipped around to stare her down. The coldest look dawned his beautiful face, and she noticed vaguely that he was shaking to top it all off. Something that she'd said had really hit him hard, she realized. Any sort of satisfaction she had left suddenly disappeared now along with her frustration as she watched him start to pace – guilt flooded her system instead. "Is that seriously what you want, Allison? Because I don't. You deserve so much better than that! I mean, you have your whole life in front of you; You have a future."

"And you don't?" The words were out of her mouth before she thought them through, and they both became marginally shocked by them. She immediately wanted to apologize for what she'd said but kept her mouth clamped shut because she knew he wouldn't hear her out – she knew him a little too well sometimes. Nobody spoke and the silence was suddenly harsh; the answer was pretty clear.

The anger drained from John's face after a moment as he stared at Allison, breathing erratically in time to his racing heart. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to change his mind, instead choosing to turn around and walk away.

Allison's heart went with him. Standing up from the ground, she haphazardly brushed off the back of her black dress and moved a few steps after him. "John, wait!" She called, voice cracking on the second word. She could feel her throat starting to ache as she forced down the tears that tried to overtake her brown eyes. She knew if he left, he wouldn't be coming back – she wasn't expecting him to turn around

But he did.

"Why?" He asked, sounding almost tired as he ran a hand through his dark hair and stared at her expectantly. He looked almost pained, like he couldn't bear to be there; her heart thudded dangerously in her chest at the realization.

"Because, John." Allison started, staring at him for a moment, _just _a moment – then all at once, she began to cry. Tears mixed with _that black shit_ that she normally wears around her eyes trailed down her porcelain cheeks and she had to fight back the sobs that threatened to rack her body. She didn't think he'd be able to handle that right now and she would be right in that assumption. "I need you."

Maybe it was the fact that nobody had ever depended on him enough to actually need him before or maybe it was the way she looked when she cried – either way, it doesn't matter. Whatever it was, John's saw his carefully built walls go crumbling down in front of his boots. It was almost like Allison saw it happen too because she suddenly crossed the space between them easily and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

John never did figure out what was wrong with her that day but he did, however, figure out something else of importance.

He needed her too.


End file.
